


A Place For Everything (And Everything In Its Place)

by memelessness



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Angel!Crowley(Corviel), Demon!Aziraphale(Ziraphon), Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Other, Reverse Omens, Roleswap AU, reverse au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-28 08:10:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19808227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memelessness/pseuds/memelessness
Summary: Corviel was a very decisive man (or rather man-shaped being). He always knew what he wanted, and when he wanted it, all he had to do was take the time to prepare.





	A Place For Everything (And Everything In Its Place)

**Author's Note:**

> Please support all our works on https://archiveofourown.org/collections/CorvielZiraphon
> 
> I am but a godmother to these children

__

Corviel was a very decisive man (or rather man-shaped being). He always knew what he wanted, and when he wanted it, all he had to do was take the time to prepare.

That’s why when he woke up, he didn’t take his time getting out of bed. He  _ knew _ he wanted to have his demon companion to have him. But he couldn’t just summon them now. That wouldn’t do at all.

He started with making the bed (which he wouldn’t bother with otherwise), a blueish black feather falling off one of the pillows. He smiled fondly at how the color seemed to shift in the light, holding it to his face as the faint smell of sulfur and coffee flooded his senses.

Ever since they started having their nights of passion, Ziraphon would leave their feathers throughout the store (If you were to ask them, they’d say “I’m molting, Angel!” But Corviel knew it was an assertion of claim), and sometimes Corviel would wear them in his hair, or keep them in his shirt pocket. Never in front of the demon, of course. He would never live that down… But cleaning up lead to more beautiful feathers. He already had a dresser drawer full of them, and considered making another pillow… but the blackened feathers would probably be seen poking through the fabric, and that would be embarrassing. 

He quickly tied his hair in a bun, sticking the feather in the elastic band. The blackened blue popped against his auburn hair, bringing a bright smile to his face.

The regular morning routine was usually just a simple ‘iron your clothes and open the shop,’ but this morning he took his time. He needed to gather some candles together, sweep the floor for straggling feathers (both angel and demon), pick out a vinyl (“Anything but Queen, Corviel!”), and make sure the back room was absolutely pristine for tonight.

He needed it perfect for his demon, and if it took too long, then opening the shop could wait.

Ziraphon strut into the music store like the peacock he was, finger-gunning at everyone that cared to notice him. He wore a shirt with arrows pointing to his shoulders saying ‘Legs Rest Here’ (it was between this or another shirt that said ‘All You Can Eat Buffet’ or ‘Looking for a Sexy Daddy’), an unbuttoned blazer over his chest. 

He approached the angel, who pretended not to notice him as they played the guitar with eyes closed. He saw the feather first but decided to wait before actually bring it up.

“You look nice.” The demon chuckled quietly, seating himself on the floor beside them.

Corviel cracked his eyes open, having forgotten about the feather. The thought of  _ How do I look different than normal _ circled through his brain a few times, but he shrugged it off, strumming a few notes, “Thank you.” He smiled over to Ziraphon’s direction, noticing the shirt before looking in the other direction in a sudden, flustered mess.

The man-shaped bird smirked proudly, his weight sinking into the floor with eyes half-lidded as he listened to the plucking of guitar strings.

There were some things that had been instinctively integrated into the occult (as well as the ethereal) beings. Though they were definitely partners, they still spent their waking moments courting each other. 

Ziraphon manage to prevent most of the cooing that rumbled in his throat, instilled habits forcing him to sing along to his lover’s song.

“How does dinner sound?” Corviel spoke up, a soft smile against his features, “After the shop is closed, of course. I can make a reservation.”

The demon scoffed, “Reservation?” He spoke as if the word had been completely foreign, “When was the last time we’ve made a reservation?”

“Y-yeah.” The angel laughed uncomfortably, attempting to look cool, “That was a silly offer, huh?” He didn’t want to mention that all of their dinner dates had been made under reservation (and that he’d already reserved a table at the Ritz for tonight).

“How about that Indian place down the street, then?” The demon offered, wicked smile across his face.

Corviel let out a visible gulp, “W-what about the Ritz, though? Like we usually do?”

Ziraphon chuckled at his angel’s expression. He realized then that they had planned the whole day out, “Nah, too stuffy.” He closed his eyes, humming quietly, “You like curry, anyway? Why turn it down?”

The angel sat on it for a moment, letting out a small hiss as he thought it out, “Okay, yeah sure. Indian sounds good.” He stood back up, returning the guitar to its stand, “A-and for a completely unrelated reason I need to make a phone call.” And began to walk away.

He knew it, “You’re really slayin’ it with the blue, Angel!” He called after them, legs firmly crossed as he remained on the floor.

“Blue?” Corviel spoke quietly before suddenly realizing, his whole face flushing red as he fumbled to rip the feather from his hair.

The shop was officially closed, but there was a customer still browsing through the Disco section, headphones blaring as they looked through the mass of CDs.

Normally, Corviel would be very patient. He  _ did _ open the store for humans, after all… but this was against the plan! He already had to change up reservations! But he sat by the register, bouncing his legs as he watched them.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so mad before.” Ziraphon joked, leaning up against the other side of the counter.

“I’m not mad, I’m just… tetchy.” The angel muttered under his breath, standing up once the customer finally began to approach.

He was quick with scanning  _ ten items _ , stacking them neatly into the bag, “Is there anything else I could get for you?” He spoke out of habit, looking up to see them watching his demon’s ass before looking up as if nothing had even happened.

“Yeah you didn’t have any-”

“Have a day!” Corviel nearly threw everything at them, the words dripping from his tongue like syrupy venom. He refused to say the ‘nice’ part. Bad customers didn’t deserve to be wished a ‘nice day.’

Ziraphon was quiet, watching the customer leave in a huff, “Wow, he was salty.”

The angel nearly short-circuited at that comment. How would the demon know what they tasted like?!

“Let’s just go.” He smiled once more. He was back on the plan, stepping away from the counter with Ziraphon a few steps ahead. Their shorts read ‘Thotty with the Body,’ tonight. Taking a few steps until they were at their side, he reached over to snap at the waistband, still looking forward.

_ So it’s like that _ Ziraphon thought, letting out a quiet groan as the elastic smacked against his skin. He then turned to watch the confident smirk across his angel’s face.

“Wanna do it in the car?” He suggested, knowing the other had a plan, and knowing they’d give him some sort of flustered refusal.

And boy was the angel flustered, stammering out a few syllables and refusing to make eye contact, “Let’s please have dinner first, Dear.” He finally managed to say, not necessarily giving them a no.


End file.
